


Six Feet Under London Town Steel

by ASofterEdd (orphan_account)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: 'Cause I was fourth-fifths done before the reveal, And I ain't changing it now, Character Study, Future Era, Gen, Red Leader is pre-Tomska reveal, Tord and Matt are there too but they're definitely background roles., [?]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ASofterEdd
Summary: Tom flashed a reassuring grin.‘Sure, Edd, Tord’s going to come and kill us all.’I returned it. That was the thing--back then, we were dicking around like it was going to be like that forever.





	Six Feet Under London Town Steel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KZDipped](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KZDipped/gifts).



> This was for a Christmas exchange until my being a neophyte (or in writer tradition) had it pushed as a birthday exchange. Happy early birthday, mate. Also, thanks to all my friends whom I dragged into beta-ing this.
> 
> Originally posted under ASofterEdd on 2018.02.07.

While the sky was vomiting color, I was laughing my arse off in the back seat. Matt was quietly driving, but the front mirror showed the grin on his face. Tom was in the same position as I was, kicking the back of Matt’s seat and talking in between bits of laughter.

‘—Nice to blow up something of _his_ for once, _hah_ , Edd, you have to admit, the red bastard got what was coming for him.’

‘Heh, yeah. My idea for it was brilliant.’

‘I am _so_ awesome.’

Tom quickly reached over to pop a CD in before pressing the play button, a knifing grin on his face as the car was filled with the sound of horns blended with static and a voice that had swallowed glass.

_‘When they come for me I’ll be sitting at my desk,_

_with a gun in my hand, wearing a bulletproof vest, singing_

_My, my, my, how the time does fly--_

_When you know you’re gonna die at the end of the night.’_

The car’s wheels glided over road. She was an older machine, of jostled parts and scratched paint-- not to say she was _all_ old. You needed some upgrades here and there to keep her toe to toe with the rest of the tech that was continuously on our trail.

It went on like that for a while, with the glowing city running lines out of the window, and the scratchy sound of ska (Third wave, Tom always clarified) going all the way into the night.

The clock ticked back and forth, as I pored over the scratched pencil map of a base under the stingy bunker light. Matt was out for machine scrap, and the originator of said map was laying his bony arse all over the sofa. Most of our time had been spent like this, lazing around in between our strikes. During the downtime, Matt largely was the only one who really got out-- neither Tom or I had truly set feet to on the pavement for years, and it’d been even longer since the pavement had actually been _paved_. If there was a new term for it, we sure as hell wouldn’t have known. Matt was typically the one going out because of his long-lived flair for the dramatics and ability to slip by if he really wanted to. He had been good at balancing the group all out, when it was still the four of us. But that was before Tord left, and before he made his ‘return’ that day. Things hadn’t really changed--now it was just the three of us against his stupidity (The harpoon gun was rotting in storage).

‘Tom.’ I paused. ‘You wonder why Tord hasn’t done anything to stop us?’

‘Too much of a coward, I bet.’

‘ _Tom._ You of all people should know he’s quick to fight, or is the injury of being run over by his car _finally_ starting to kick in?’

‘Edd, relax. We’ve dealt with Tord being a pissbaby before. Matt had an army too, and we managed to take that on, just you and me. I bet Tord can’t even _keep_ his much longer.’ Tom flashed a reassuring grin.

‘ _Sure_ Tord’s going to come and kill us all.’

I returned it. ‘Heh, yeah, I guess so. Thanks for that, arsehole.’

‘No problem, pissturd.’

‘Real creative, Tom.’

‘I don’t see you having better ideas.’

 

The air muffled with sound. The plan had been a simple one, just to get some proper weapons and to run. Before it had just been me manning the sole gun— an alien model Tom had ‘liberated’ from the now crashed spacecraft. I typically kept it in its other form of a now vintage Glock, despite having one be a damning sign of the city’s underworld. Being weaponless for the most part, Matt and Tom typically worked at making sure whatever plan there was worked as best as possible, using anything that could be built from the scrap, or to generally cause havoc. It didn’t matter now. It was just up to Matt and I to try and make it out alive and hope Tom would attempt the same. Tor—sorry, _red leader_ hadn’t shown his face yet, but it’d be any second. The bloody-minded prick loved confrontation even when we had all been friends. A prime piece of evidence that fate had it in for me was that a second later the bastard walked in with a gun to Tom’s head.

His hair was still thin and spiked, but that was it. The rest was a alien jumble of steel scars meeting skin. His unscarred eye, the color of gunmetal grey, stared straight ahead while his boots stood firmly on the floor. Tom was slightly bent over, the only noise coming from his being none of at all. I swear, you could’ve pinned him for a dead man.

In the end, Tord was the one to speak first.

‘Hello… what a shame it is to see you again.’

‘You couldn’t be more disappointed than I am.’ I looked away from Tord, keeping my gaze on Tom. He’d yet to look up, his scuffed trousers barely hiding red ankles.

‘You’re really going through with this whole ‘rebellion thing’, aren’t you. As much as I’ve been hoping for you to just listen to me, if we continue like we have my ambition will never be realized. Sorry to say it, but I’ll let you and Matt go only if he,’ Tord’s eye darted over to Tom, ‘stays.’

‘You’re bloody mad. Tell me, why the hell would we let you do that?’

‘Because having to shoot you in the head would be incredibly unpleasant, for the both of us. If you just took the time to understand then we wouldn’t have to fight, but if you can’t work with a compromise, then I’ll have no choice. So, what is it?’

‘Go,’ Tom offered, voice scratched and clawed, ‘and take it. The bastard can’t kill me.’

There wasn’t much of a choice after that. During our downtime working with what we had managed to raid from the base, Tom was just considered out of action. But after the next time we saw him, I wished we had just marked him as dead.

 

‘Stop where you are.’

It was deeper and almost sounded tuned, but I didn’t need to turn around to recognize the voice. That didn’t stop me from doing it anyway. In reality, not much had changed. But reality had long since been thrown to the smooth grey curb by now. He had kept his style of a dark blue collared shirt, but the checkered tie had been swapped out for a slimmer black one, along with a general switch to dress that was more formal. The first thing that stood out, however, was the wide scar across Tom’s face, made of slick black material and softly pulsing with artificial light. The second was the laser pistol carefully trained on my chest. I only started out quiet.

‘You never explained what happened, you never explained why you didn’t come back, you never explained _what the hell_ Tord _did_ to make you choose _him_!’

His voice was even, and calm, the softness smothering the past months of hell in empty fluff.

‘We don’t have much more time. Tord’s losing faith in your continued escapes, and I can’t keep claiming fault much longer.’ The room fell silent, save for the scattered noise of commotion in the other parts of the base. Tom readjusted his grip on the laser pistol, the aim slightly shifting down before returning to the previous position.

‘I don’t want the last time I talk to you to be the same as all the ones before. And… Tord didn’t _do_ anything. He just talked. And it made sense.’

‘Bullshit! You’ve hated the bastard for years--’ He cut me off with a sharp laugh dulled by time. It killed to hear it.

‘Things change’, was his reply, and the weariness hidden behind the soft, quiet tone killed even more.

I was eventually only known as the Green Outlaw-- recognizable by unscarred skin and gun of a long time past. Tord had been known as Red Leader for some time now, and Tom quickly became known as his Blue Guard. Names gave way to titles-- ghosts of what we did, not who we were. (Relationships can never live if they’re only in shadows.) I didn’t talk with Tom much after he confessed to the change, and what conversation we did have held only uneasy jokes, and awkward shifts of posture. After we ceased to be Edd and Tom, the talk died off for good, and I became increasingly alone among the corpse-cold corridors of the nameless bases. Matt and I had good time together in between work, but those gaps had become increasingly sparse. Tom had been right-- not shortly after the incident, Tord stopped trying to have peaceful meetings and instead moved onto attempts to capture Matt and I. That was also when he decided our strikes were public news, calling me the Green Outlaw. Now we had others that worked with us against Tord, if only to counteract his increased force.

I tended to go alone during attacks. Matt, as stupid as he could be, thrived off of attention and talk, as I came to seek the opposite.

This base was no different from the last, the everpresent sterile walls blending into a steel haze. The corridors wound endlessly. It was a jumble of passageways I would never understand except for my destination. I was left to my typical work of retrieving information to plan and lead, for the looming fight against Tord. I was still the leader, but a leader of strangers in a battle against a man who dug graves for history. The information I needed to gather was the next step in slowly dismantling the hellish empire Tord made before coming for the king. It wasn’t an easy retrieval, but it wasn’t hard either-- it was like all the other ones before it, only with the parts rearranged. Making my way back to the regrouping spot was eventless until I crossed paths with one of Tord’s officers. His nametag said ‘Paul’, and he had been one of the more familiar faces amongst the fight. He had always been spectator of my old plans and stunts-- the memory of distracting him to ‘liberate’ a tank (how long ago that was) stuck out vividly in my mind. Now, though, we stood tensely across from each other-- not daring to look away should the other decide to shoot first. After some time, an odd look came over his face. He stepped aside and walked past me. I could’ve shot him in the back there. Could’ve. It wasn’t a huge deal, it meant less work to get back and really start on the plan to strike against Tord. _He_ was the one I was coming for-- besides, despite him sporting a scarred replacement eye, Paul still wore bandages for it. I could respect that, even from the opposition. As I regrouped with the rest of the _‘army’_ , I looked around only to find Matt absent. With a quick apology, one of the recruits explained that Matt had been forced to surrender himself in a deal for the rest of the group to return. There wasn’t anything to say in return but a quiet ‘all right’. I had no hope in getting him back, to attempt would be a suicide mission. Back at the base, he was immediately declared dead and given a short funeral that mostly consisted of a one minute eulogy surrounding one of the many photographs of him. I hid a small grave decorated with the shards of mirrors in one of the nameless scrap yards. Things were better that way, in certainty.

 

‘Green Outlaw, you’ve run out of places to go. We’re taking you and ending your rebellion. Red Leader’s orders.’

The Purple and Blue Guard stand in the alley, twin shadows blocking out the harsh light on the pavement. The future is sealed. I’ve been running in a slowly shrinking cage, my judgement in shambles from withdrawal, and  now the cage is no bigger than myself and the gracious meter between me and the guards. Cola being outlawed was a desperate move by Red  Leader in an attempt to have me ‘just listen to him’, but it doesn’t change a damn thing. Tord will take everything and bury it deep until I give in or die. My life or self, regardless, I will not survive. The choice of which to kill is no choice at all. I will be brought in by the Purple and Blue guard, and granted the honor of seeing the venerable Red Leader himself. He will simply request that I listen to him, because ‘I will understand’ if I just did. For the sake of old friends, and that doesn’t just mean him. Does it not get lonely, being left to lead a rebellion on one’s own? I don’t need to respond questions he already damn well knows the answers to. It’s not a secret to him that I’ve been slipping long before Cola was declared illegal. I will refuse his to listen again, and for the last time. Even in my current state, I hope it will be said with some sort of resemblance to my former self. And thus will end the singular thing I’ve been fighting for.

Except. Under the sleeve of my worn leather coat lies a way out. A final version of one of Tord’s failed experiments from years ago. He wouldn’t have noticed its absence, not quite yet, he’s always been very singularly minded when he has a goal. Studying this in the downtimes, I’ve found that the Red Leader always ends on top. Using this, I will not survive, but I can choose how it ends. The Blue Guard takes a step forward, and the final words from the dying world are:

‘You don’t know how sorry Red is for this.’

and,

‘Not sorry enough to stop me.’

Blue Guard’s scar flickers out in shock as I pull out the time machine, and that’s how I’ll remember Tom. The past gasps its final breath as my body comes apart in static, and I go back to end hell before it begins.

**Author's Note:**

>  _You and me, baby!_  
>  _We are the future,_  
>  _and the future is bleak._ \- (A Softer World 1004)


End file.
